


Mixed Drinks

by romanticalgirl



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tables turn, the candles burn</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixed Drinks

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://users.livejournal.com/wisteria_/profile)[](http://users.livejournal.com/wisteria_/)**wisteria_**
> 
> Originally posted 9-9-07

She knew better.

She knew better that night as she downed that shot Tahmoh put in front of her. Knew better when she drained the beer bottle after dancing three fast songs with Trucco. Knew better when someone popped the cork and poured champagne all across the row of glasses and Grace handed her two claiming Katee needed one for each hand.

The problem is that she’s tired of knowing better. Tired of being good and staying in her place. Tired of doing the right thing all the time. She’s tired of being the good girl, even though she is a good girl, and tired of the feelings that seem to simmer just beneath her skin. Tired of feeling this way and denying it.

Tired. Tired of knowing and not doing.

So, one shot, four beers and two glasses of champagne later, she moves over to the table where Jamie and James and Aaron are talking, serious actors in the crowd of the rest of them living it up for a moment. She plops a new bottle of champagne in front of them and settles herself in Jamie’s lap.

“We’re celebrating.”

“Is this a group celebration or are you expecting us to leave?” James gives Katee a knowing glance and opens the bottle.

“If she expected us to leave, she’d just have straddled him.” Aaron laughs and gets up to go get glasses from the bar, ignoring Katee as she flips him the bird.

“What are we celebrating?” Jamie’s hand settles in the small of her back and his other hand rests on her thigh, ostensibly holding her in place, though to her it feels like too much heat on her already overheated skin.

“Dunno. Grace said we celebrate. You going to argue with her, Bamber?”

“Well, if Grace has spoken…” He smiles up at her and Katee holds his gaze, watching the curve of his mouth with far too much interest. She nods, knowing if she opens her mouth, she’ll say something she shouldn’t. Aaron comes back and sits down, setting the glasses down for James to fill.

Jamie’s hand leaves her thigh and Katee bites back a noise of disappointment until he brings a glass of champagne in front of her. For a second she thinks he’s going to press it to her lips, and all her mind can see is champagne on her skin then _him_ on her skin and she makes a sound that, fortunately for her, can’t be heard over the sounds of the bar.

She takes the glass and watches as he does the same, tapping his glass against hers before taking a drink. She tosses hers back, feeling the bubbles against her throat and rolling in her stomach, and she’s pretty sure she’s going to be sick in the morning and hung over for a week, but it’s worth it as Jamie finishes his more slowly and then sets his glass on the table, letting his hand fall back against her thigh.

He goes back into his conversation as if she isn’t sitting on his lap, as if she’s no more than scenery, a prop, or maybe he’s just so used to little girls and enamored women climbing all over that he doesn’t even notice. The thought makes her choke and she shakes her head as he looks up at her, his eyes kind and curious but distant.

She shakes her head and slides off his lap, making her was out of the bar as quickly as she can. She hears a few people call after her, but she ignores them, needing air and sanity and between the smoke and the sweat and the flashing lights, both seem in short supply until she pushes through the door. She goes down the steps and moves toward the side of the building, needing to be out of the golden light that illuminates the front of the bar they’ve taken over.

Closing her eyes, she leans against the wall craving a cigarette, wanting something to focus on, something bad for her that she can own and claim. Instead she just breathes, sliding her hands up and down her thighs, willing everything back in the little box inside her.

“You all right?”

“Fuck.” She whispers the word as he comes around the corner, silhouetted by the light so he glows softly, the yellow halo around him glinting off his too-long hair and making his eyes seem even darker. “Yeah. Just needed some air.”

He nods and moves closer to her, leaning against the wall beside her. “Sure?”

She wants him to go almost as much as she wants him to stay. She can feel the alcohol in her stomach, in her system, as she turns her head and looks at him. She can’t seem to stop the words for all she knows she should. “I want to kiss you.”

“Oh, Katee.”

It’s the soft lilt of his accent that causes her to lose control, the roll of her name against his tongue. It brings back a flood of fantasizes like he’s opened Pandora’s Box and all the things she’s kept inside are overflowing, filling her up and spilling out.

“Just once. Just one. I know…I know we can’t. We shouldn’t. I know _I_ shouldn’t, but Jamie…”

He shakes his head and she closes her eyes tight, because it hurts like hell holding everything in now that the tight rein of her emotions has slipped, letting the dam leak and break and spill. Her head offers her every explanation he could – from ‘I don’t even like you’ to ‘I love Kerry’ – beating inside her brain with more shame and embarrassment than anyone else could ever cause her. She gasps aloud as his fingers touch her chin, stroking her skin softly. “Katee.”

She opens her eyes, blindly ignoring the apology in his tone, and gazes at him expectantly, hungrily. He shakes his head again, but she doesn’t care. She can’t, not anymore. It’s too much to hold in, to hold back and he’s so close, touching her like she’s something precious.

Kissing him feels like falling. His lips are warm and sweet and tart like champagne and her tongue touches them, tastes them, sliding along the seam of his mouth until it parts under her soft assault. The inside of his mouth is hot and she whimpers as it closes over hers, his tongue against hers and his hand sliding back to her hair in the few moments where the world spins away, only to come crashing back in a cold, hard instant as he pulls back.

“Let me call you a cab.”

She shakes her head. “Take me home, Jamie.”

It’s not an unusual request. They’ve shared rides home plenty of times, fighting over the radio station and half the time settling on whatever CD of kid songs he has in the car. Those nights usually ended in dreams of marriage and family and things that hurt even worse than wanting him.

“No, Katee.”

“Because you want to stay?” She looks into his eyes, searching for something. Anything.

“No, Katee,” he says softly, his fingers stroking her cheek with a gentle lingering that hurts more than it comforts. “Because I don’t.”  



End file.
